


Feeling the Heat

by ArianneMaya



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician)
Genre: BDSM, M/M, fireplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-15
Updated: 2013-06-15
Packaged: 2017-12-15 02:17:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/844150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArianneMaya/pseuds/ArianneMaya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>When Brian turns off his lighter, his gaze pins Tommy into place. “You want to play with fire, Tommy Joe?”</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feeling the Heat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Minxie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minxie/gifts).



> Written as a birthday fic for Minxie, with the prompt "trying something new".  
> Happy Birthday Minxie! Hope you enjoy this ♥
> 
> Many thanks to @leela_cat for the beta and holding my hand when I needed it.

It all starts because of Tommy’s newfound obsession with fire. Well, not with fire itself; with the way the flame of Brian’s lighter dances over his fingers every time he lights a cigarette. Instantly, Tommy’s staring, his mouth gone dry.

He tries to be subtle about it, forgetting that he and subtlety are complete opposites. Whenever he hears the flicking sound of Brian’s lighter, the urge is stronger than him. He has to turn and watch, no matter where he is. 

It’s almost a Pavlovian response by now. 

_Flick._

Tommy’s mouth waters at the sights of Brian’s hand cupping the flame. He stares and stares until he realizes there’s no cigarette in sight. _Fuck._

He raises his head to find Brian staring right back at him, the hint of a smile at the corner of his lips. “See something you like?”

“Maybe.” Tommy’s half assed reply loses all its credibility when Brian flicks his lighter, fingers toying with the flame. That’s all it takes for Tommy to stare again.

When Brian turns off his lighter, his gaze pins Tommy into place. “You want to play with fire, Tommy Joe?”

Heat zips down Tommy’s spine and settles in his balls with a wave of _oh, fuck yes._ “How?”

***

By the time they’re finally done talking about limits, about wants and needs and safewords, a heavy dose of fear has mixed with Tommy’s desire. It’s not enough to stop him – it never has been, never will be. But it’s just enough that when he’s naked, hair still damp from the shower, and bent over a table, held by bonds to prevent him from struggling, it takes long minutes of having Brian’s soft, gentle hands on him, for Tommy to finally go lax. 

He rests his cheek against the cold table. If he opens his eyes, he can see the pair of scissors that are lying within his eyesight, within Brian’s easy reach. They’re a subtle reminder that, as much as possible, every little thing that could go wrong has been accounted for. 

Instead he keeps his eyes closed and allows himself to feel. Brian’s hands on him, warm and steady. The ropes that are holding him in place. The small burn on the inside of his wrist from earlier, the one that sent all of his senses into overdrive and confirmed that, yes, they were doing this. 

Tommy’s already falling, a slow, comfortable slide that’s so gentle he barely realizes what’s happening. Within moments, his focus is reduced to the caress of Brian’s hands and Brian’s voice.

“Give me a color, Tommy Joe.”

The words, along with Brian’s earlier warning of, _if I check on you and you fail to answer me, I stop,_ are all it takes to shock some awareness into Tommy. He has so little control over the words that tumble out of his mouth, though, no way to stop the, “Green, sir, _please._ So fucking green.” 

It’s been weeks since they’ve had the time for a scene this intense, and Tommy’s need for release is clawing under his skin. No way are they stopping before they’ve even fucking started. 

“Good boy.”

Sometimes Tommy needs to fight every step of the way until he finds the little place within himself where he can finally feel free. Today, though, it’s so very easy that within minutes, even his fear is a distant memory. 

He’s already so far gone that, when Brian speaks to him, his words barely register. Tommy’s only aware of how warm and safe they make him feel. The “Let go, give it over to me,” and “Always so good for me, baby,” wrap around him, leaving him with nowhere left to go.

Soon all he can feel are Brian’s hands on his skin, over and over again, light caresses and firms slaps that are nothing but a tease of what’s next. Every single touch brings Tommy a little farther, a little higher. 

Until all of his nerve endings are so awake that even the lightest of caresses is enough to draw a whine out of him. He barely hears Brian’s dark chuckle, but the next words make it through the fog in Tommy’s mind, clear as day. “You ready, baby?”

Tommy is barely aware of the words he says, a mess of “yes” and “ _please_ ” and “I need.” All he can focus on is the need for Brian to do something, _anything_ , before the anticipation drives him crazy.

“Take a deep breath for me.”

Tommy obeys, Brian’s words feeling like the last tether anchoring him to reality. 

The touch of gauze on his skin is so light that he barely feels it. It’s only when it’s taken away that he realizes what it means, when he can feel the contrast the warmth of his skin and the small cold patch of alcohol. 

Before he can think to react, he feels Brian’s palm on the small of his back.

“Don’t you dare come yet,” is the only warning he gets before Brian flicks on his lighter and brings the flame to Tommy’s skin.

The air leaves Tommy’s lungs in a rush. The burn itself lasts but a second, a stinging caress just on the right side of being painful, but he’s sure he can _feel_ the flame as it licks across his skin, following the path Brian traced, with Brian’s fingers right behind it. He _knows_ the flame isn’t going anywhere except where Brian intends it to, yet there’s a tiny hint of fear underneath everything else. It does nothing to tamper Tommy’s desire; it only makes him painfully aware of his cock, resting hard and heavy between his thighs.

He cries out at the second burn. It shouldn’t have surprised him, not after the telltale warning of the alcohol being rubbed on his skin, of Brian’s palm right next to it, but since he can’t see what’s happening, he can do nothing but guess. Even when he _knows_ , when he hears the flick of Brian’s lighter, all it does is drive his anticipation up another notch.

He’s floating on a high of sensation, of fear and lust and _need_ threading together so tightly that differentiating one from the other is impossible. Every little touch feels ten times more intense, and in the middle of it all, there’s the burn, once, and then again, fire licking across his skin, the tiny burst of pain that he can barely feel, just another sensation pushing him higher. 

“That’s it, baby, let me hear you.”

Tommy hears the words but can’t process them. He hears the moans and whimpers, rising higher and higher, and the borderline sobbing, but he couldn’t even tell if he’s making the sounds or not. 

Every time he thinks he can’t take anymore, there’s the touch of Brian’s fingers over his skin, bringing him down and down and _down_ until it all feels like a tease, a maddening caress that does nothing but reawaken Tommy’s need. And then they start over, the tantalization of alcohol rubbing and the mad dash of pain on his abused skin. 

Time and time again, Brian brings Tommy to the very brink of what he thinks he can endure and then pushes him a little farther. Until the thin line between pain and pleasure melts away. Until it all turns into a blur of sensations and Tommy loses the small grip he still had on reality.

“Last one, baby.” 

With the words comes a wave of anticipation from which Tommy has no hope of breaking free, distorting his perceptions far enough that the burn feels longer, stronger. It tears a scream out of his throat even though he has no idea if this burn really was that much worse or if it’s nothing but his brain playing tricks on him. 

He feels Brian loosen the bonds and release him but he doesn’t have time to catch his breath. Brian rests his palm over the last burn on Tommy’s back, trapping ice between his and Tommy’s skin. The contrast draws another scream out of Tommy and has him, for the first time, trying to move away from the sensation. It’s too much and not enough all at once. 

“You’ve been so good, baby. Just a little more now. You can take it.”

Brian moves his hand, following the pattern of the burns with the ice, reducing Tommy to a trembling, begging mess. 

“Please,” is the only word he can get out, and again, “Please, please, _please_ ,” in a litany that nothing can stop.

Nothing but the feeling of Brian’s hand around his cock, jacking him off, stealing his breath away. “Go ahead, baby.”

One, two, three strokes are all it takes. Everything hits Tommy all at once, a mess of sensations that tilts his whole world sideways as he comes, making him feel like he’s about to spiral right out of his skin. 

The strength of his orgasm leaves him lax on the table. He barely feels the soft blanket Brian drapes over him. He leans into the soft caress of Brian’s hand on his head, as Brian brushes the hair away from Tommy’s forehead, and he lets out a contented sigh. 

He stays right where he is, without any awareness of the time that passes, safe in this little world where nothing matters but Brian’s gentle touch and the words of love and praise Brian always has for him 

The spell is only broken when Brian asks, “Ready to stand?” 

Slowly, Tommy opens his eyes. His legs won’t carry him far, but his vision isn’t too blurry. He’s good. “I think so.” His voice comes out as a croak. He must have screamed a lot more than he thought he did. 

He feels Brian’s fingers tilting his chin, searching for something in Tommy’s eyes. Tommy holds Brian’s gaze just long enough to convince him that he’s okay, but as soon as Brian helps him stand, his uncovered front is hit by the room’s cool air and he shivers.

Without a word, Brian wraps the blanket more tightly around Tommy. Then Tommy is scooped up in Brian’s arms like he weighs no more than a feather, and taken over to the couch. Tommy’s still out of it enough that he doesn’t protest. 

Within moments, Tommy’s cradled in Brian’s lap and clinging to Brian, to the love he can always find in the safety of Brian’s embrace.

There’s a hand at the back of his head and a straw against his lips. “Drink, baby.”

Tommy gladly takes a few mouthfuls of water. It does wonders for his parched throat, but soon he’s pushing away the straw. “Enough.”

He knows it’s not enough, knows that Brian will insist again, but for now Brian gives in and takes away the glass. 

He rests his head against Brian’s chest and feels more than he hears Brian whisper, “I need to have a look at your back.”

“Not yet.” It comes out a lot needier than Tommy meant it to. 

There’s a very soft kiss on his hair. “All right. Just a little longer.”

Smiling, Tommy burrows into the blanket and lets Brian’s gentle touch, Brian’s words of love and praise, wrap him in a cocoon of affection and safety. One so powerful that, for the next couple of weeks, it will be enough to protect Tommy from everything.


End file.
